


catch me if you can (i might slip through your hands)

by spideynamu



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Peter Parker Feels, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Needs a Hug
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-11 17:02:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,947
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20549627
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spideynamu/pseuds/spideynamu
Summary: Tony Stark was a master of throwing things, he could throw parties, snarky comments at the press, and sarcastic remarks to anyone he met.Yet he could never seem to catch things.





	catch me if you can (i might slip through your hands)

**Author's Note:**

> hi! so this story just came to me while i was washing the dishes lmao, and i was thinking about the scene in infinity war when peter and tony were about to go space so it kinda just spiraled down from there because i was like hold up remember pepper in iron man 3 and rhodey in civil war?
> 
> i lowkey intended to have none to little angst in this (i'm barely over infinity war, how am i supposed to be over endgame?). but again it be like that sometimes.
> 
> this is rated teens and up because there's a few swear words and howard stark mentioned so you know, whoops. team cap is also in this but it's not really bashing — i love the family trope so much but the directors just had to do that :/ i'm just writing through tony's experience and how i interpreted it throughout the continuation of the movies.
> 
> and so this is basically canon compliant? i mean the whole extremis thing is a bit of a stretch but oh well, i do what i want hehe.
> 
> and also except for the fact infinity war and endgame don't exist here because a) i'm weak, b) i'm weak, and c) just let tony and peter be happy for once omg, and also i'm weak!

i throw wishes into the night and wait for the stars to catch them. - christy ann martine  
__

Tony Stark had never been good at catching things.

Maybe it all started when his father threw empty glasses that were freshly filled with scotch or whiskey (or even a mix of both) at the wall, shattering into pieces behind him. He inwardly flinched at the glass that pricked his hands when he cleaned them up later.

_You could’ve done better, boy._

Maybe it started when his father had always shrugged him off, preferring to spend days locked in his lab because he was determined to find the long lost Captain, the Captain that meant more to him than his own son.

_Tony, leave, I’m busy._

Maybe it started when the older kids had picked on him at school, for being too scrawny, too smart for his age, the kids who didn’t like that a kid a couple years younger than them had solved the problem in less than a second with a simple glance.

_Hear about that kid, Stark? Thinks he’s all that, doesn’t have any friends because he’s a freak._

Maybe it started when Tony realized that he couldn’t catch anything, let alone be handed anything by anyone because what else was he supposed to do?

_I don’t like being handed things._

_Glass shards, the stench of alcohol on his father’s breath, a harsh slap on his arm because he hadn’t done well enough at the science fair despite winning first place._

_Harsh comments by the older kids, rough pushes down the stairs, glares everywhere he walked, all because he was smart, but also a Stark._

What else was he supposed to but follow his father’s footsteps and get blackout drunk, waking up to an unfamiliar face the next day, a pounding headache as the harsh sunlight streamed through the windows.

That was before Afghanistan anyway, before his chest was ripped open inside a dark, dirty cave, before Obie, no, Stane, had ripped his heart out his chest, before he finally realized Tony Stark could not catch things because they always broke in his hands.

However, Tony had always been a natural at throwing things, he could throw snarky remarks to nosy reporters with ease, brush off any sentimental talks with well-aimed sarcasm and smoothly launch jokes during tense, awkward conversations.  
__

Rhodey had been annoyed by it when they had just started out as roommates at MIT. But slowly annoyed grumbles turned into fond eyerolls, his eyes twinkling with amusement as he watched his best friend tell off another one of the older college kids.

“But Platypus, he was pissing me off!” protested Tony, wincing as Rhodey tended to his swollen eye.

“Yeah, Tones, telling him to suck your dick was the obvious solution,” Rhodey deadpanned, “honestly, man, you can’t just say that shit!”

“Yeah, but Sourpatch it was funny, wasn't it?” snickered Tony, a laugh leaving him as his best friend sighed, mumbling something about _stupid rich kids_ and _no self preservation_ yet no one could miss the small smile on his face.

_Rhodey was falling out of the sky, the War Machine suit did nothing to help him as he plummeted, down and down and down he went._

_Iron Man couldn’t catch him, Iron Man wasn’t fast enough, Iron Man was too slow._

_Tony screamed as he reached desperately towards his friend but he couldn’t reach him, he could not ** catch ** him. _  
__

Pepper had despised it as soon as she became his PA, reprimanding him that _Mr. Stark, I don’t think that’s a wise decision_ or _Mr. Stark, sleep would help you, tell me that sleep is for the weak one more time…_

But then ‘Mr. Stark’ and ‘Ms. Potts’ had been replaced by Tony and Pepper, or more than often Pep and the occasional honey, and an exasperated but nonetheless endeared sigh escaped her mouth when Tony had mouthed off the fifth politician for the day.

_“Honey, I can’t reach any further and you can’t stay there alright, you gotta let go.” _

_His hand was outstretched, reaching for Pepper because she could not fall, not the one person he was willing to protect, not Pepper._

_“You gotta let go, I’ll catch you, I promise.”_

_A loud crash, and then she was falling, falling, her fingertips slipped right through his and then Pepper was falling down into the fire._

_Dread filled his heart._

_He could not ** catch ** her._  
__

Harold ‘Happy’ Hogan had immediately taken to his Boss’ sense of humor, muttering his own quips under his breath, and the rare snort when his Boss had something particularly clever. 

Happy understood.

He knew what it felt like, to have the instinct of viciously shrugging off any emotions when they were presented to you. 

To block yourself off from being vulnerable to anyone, and when you were a public figure like Tony ‘I am Iron Man.’ Stark, it was important or else the leeches would latch on to you and the vultures would scavenge you.

But even Happy knew that his Boss was struggling, behind that Press Smile he presented whenever he was out, he knew that Tony Stark wasn’t always like the ‘Stark men were made of iron’ persona he smugly wore.

_Happy had gotten hurt, Happy who was in a coma, lying in a hospital bed, dead to the world as another episode of Downton Abbey played on the TV._

_Why was he never there, never there to ** catch ** those that he cared so much for?_  
__

J.A.R.V.I.S was designed to snark back at Tony, to throw out his remarks about his creator because it had always been that way, embedded deep into his coding, but even he couldn’t last forever.

_‘I think I actually have to sleep now, sir.’_

_No, no, Jarvis couldn’t leave him, not when he was stuck in the middle of nowhere Tennessee, not when he didn’t know what the fuck was happening and who the hell the Mandarin was._

_His A.I. had left him, although not on purpose, yet again Tony could not ** catch ** anything._

J.A.R.V.I.S had left Tony and out came Vision. Vision who wasn’t J.A.R.V.I.S, but who sounded just like him. But Vision didn’t care about him, how could he when he received the same treatment from the other Avengers after Ultron because Tony Stark was never recommended.

Iron Man, yes. Tony Stark, no. His alter ego might have been an Avenger, a hero to many but Tony Stark was still the Merchant of Death, and he was still just a _consultant._  
__

Just like the original one, J.A.R.V.I.S had left and this time, he couldn’t help but blame himself as he stared blankly at the lab wall, mumbling a soft apology to F.R.I.D.A.Y when he accidentally called her his name of his former A.I., his _ friend._

“Sorry baby girl, just got confused for a bit.”

_‘It’s alright Boss, maybe you should call it a night?’_

But her worried words fell to deaf ears as Tony kept staring at the wall, blinking back stubborn tears that could not drop because _Stark men don’t cry, boy!_

“Pull up the schematic FRI, we have work to do.”

She affirmed, but even she seemed reluctant to pull up another blueprint for her Boss who refused to eat anything save for the occasional blueberry, a sip of water (if it was one of the better days) and cups of coffee; the last time he went to sleep was when Ms. Potts was here.

Ms. Potts had left a while ago.

They were on a break, the woman had told her Boss, but even the A.I. knew that break was the easiest term they could use for their split.

Then the Sokovia Accords happened, the slowly growing rift between Earth’s Mightiest Heroes was finally splitting them apart (Team Iron Man and Team Cap the media would later dub them), and then Steve Rogers had slammed his shield onto the arc reactor, proving to him that he was never truly his friend.

_“He’s my friend.” _

_“So was I.”_

Steve Rogers left him there, Captain America, his childhood hero, someone Dad had chosen his son over, but he did not deserve the shield that his father made when he stood next to his killer.

The infamous shield clanged on the floor as he left, helping a stumbling Bucky Barnes, leaving him alone on the cold cement floor.  


When Tony laid there feeling hopeless, a small sense of joy falling through him because finally, he could let go, the Invincible Iron Man was no more.  
__

Tony Stark came back with a vengeance.

At first, none of the doctors were sure he would even make it back to them, how would he when his artificial sternum was broken from the vibranium shield that had been slammed down onto it. How would he when he had been left in the bitter, freezing temperatures of Siberia in a place where he was alone.

Tony Stark woke up feeling better than he had in years, the phantom pains and scarred chests had been replaced by Extremis. He woke up to a crying Pepper Potts, her cheeks tearstained.

“Tears for your long lost Boss?” he asked her, a watery smile on his face.

“Tears of joy, I hate date finding,” she whispered and threw herself into his arms, her shoulders sagging in relief because Tony was there, Tony wasn’t flatlining on another operating table, Tony was _alive._

Rhodey had yelled at him, and Tony felt a twinge of regret, because that was his fault, it was his fault his best friend was sitting in a wheelchair. But before he could spiral into his familiar storm of self deprecation and guilt his best friend since college told to come here so he could beat the shit out of him.

He didn’t beat the shit out of him, instead it was a hug and Tony sighed, content as his arms wrapped around his Honeybear.

Happy had looked so relieved at seeing his Boss looking well again he actually looked like his nickname, muttering something about _working for Tony Stark_ and _Jesus, Tony come here!_

It was another hug and Tony savored it, but his mind was already working, gears turning because there was work to be done.  
__

The Avengers had painted him as a great team member behind their carefully trained smiles during interviews to help their image, quipping about Tony and his true love, coffee, and how he would live in his lab if he could.

But behind the walls of the Avengers Compounds, he was a villain, the reason why people had gotten killed, why Ultron happened, why Pietro Maximoff had died because _ God damn it, Tony, can you stop with your ego for one second!_

Steve, no, Rogers, had said as he berated him for not following his directions during an attack.

The Captain didn’t see the way Tony’s left wrist shook, the way his other hand clenched tightly around him, the way he couldn’t _ breathe!_

If any of the other Avengers had noticed it, they either didn’t care or had just assumed it was him overreacting again, after all, Stark had always had a flair for the dramatics. 

It was him on the verge of a panic attack, his father’s harsh words reverberating in his head because he wanted him to be like Captain America, _ because he’s a hero, Anthony!_

Now, Captain America, America’s Golden Boy, was yelling at him just because Tony had stumbled at the idea of flying into a building that was about to collapse, dark, cold, he couldn’t breathe as flashbacks of Afghanistan flashed before his eyes.

Maybe, he wasn’t cut out to be an Avenger, he was barely a teammate, let alone a friend to any of the people he had housed, fed, and provided for as best as he can because like hell would he ever treat someone like the way his father did to him.  
__

After a week of recovery (the healing process was sped up by the Extremis in him thankfully) spent back at the newly bought Stark Tower. 

He couldn’t return back to the Compound without thinking of the hawk that had chosen his side when he shot an arrow at him, or the spider that had switched sides, _again. _

The Captain that had once been his friend, or he’d like to think so, a witch that didn’t even try to show her distrust for him whenever he entered the room, and a falcon that had chosen his side since the beginning.

Besides, he’d be closer to help the Spider-Kid now.  
__

After that, Tony focused his time on his work, instead of pulling up schematics for Romanoff’s Widow Bites or Barton’s arrows; they were the design plans for Rhodey’s new leg braces and a new suit for the kid.

For the majority of his adulthood, Tony had never been open to the idea of having children. He loved them, yes, but he was a recovering alcoholic, his lifestyle wasn’t exactly suited for a child, let alone a baby.

Then Peter Parker came along.

Peter Parker, who tugged at Tony’s heartstrings, but he couldn’t seem to figure out _ why?_

The Spiderling (It’s Spider-_Man_, Mr. Stark!) that had wormed his way into his closely guarded heart, the one that didn’t seem to mind that Tony still had his off days or his panic attacks.

He didn’t seem to mind the way Tony’s remarks were too harsh sometimes, or that Tony spent too much time holed up inside his lab (what else was he supposed to when the Avengers were still together, but they didn’t want him there?) or that he was, for a better word, emotionally constipated.  
__

One day they had been tinkering in the lab together, Peter casually handing him a screwdriver he didn’t even know he needed. That made him think.

_“Did the kid just hand you something?” Rhodey asked, a curious eyebrow raised as he looked at the younger boy tinkering on a pair of webshooters._

_“Hm?” Tony looked up from his work, “Yeah?”_

_“Tones. You know you don’t like being handed things.”_

_“It’s the kid Rhodes.” he shrugged, and Rhodey let him be, a smile quirking on his lips as he glanced at the pair again before leaving._

And now when Tony stood there, fixing up a gauntlet on his suit, he realized just how much the kid meant to him, but how would he even tell him that?

“Uh, hey, kid?” he voiced, clearing his throat, ignoring the way his eyes were a bit misty.

A loud crash sounded on the floor and he looked up and then down at the pile of Spider-Baby on the lab floor, a smirk on his face when he realized he’d fallen off the ceiling, _again._

“Yeah, Mr. Stark?” came a muffled voice and Tony couldn't help but chuckle as the kid stood back up again, hands wringing together as he looked at him sheepishly.

“You know I,” a pause, “that I uh, care about you right?”

Peter looked at him with his brown eyes bright and so doe like (I’m not Bambi, Mr. Stark, do I look like a _deer?_) that looked at his own, as if he was searching for something that Tony didn’t even know existed in him until then.

Seconds of silence had passed and shit, shit, shit he should not have said that because every person he ever cared about had fallen and he could never catch them in time, and—

“Yeah, I get it, Mr. Stark, Uncle Ben was like that too, and—” he choked a bit as he continued his answer, “he still cared for me ya know, just showed it differently from May, that’s all.”

That’s when it finally hit Tony, the number of times he had ** caught ** Peter, whether it be literally or figuratively.

_“Pete, you gotta let go. I’ll catch you.”_

_He willed his thrusters to be faster because damn it, the kid was falling off a building, his suit’s functions broken, webshooters crushed by the villain of the week._

_He couldn’t stop the breath of relief when he felt the kid land safely in his arms, he was there, he was okay, Tony had caught him._

That was when they shared their first real hug (obviously they’ve had hugs before, just not one quite like _this_). They weren’t the adrenaline filled hugs after a rough patrol or the ones where Peter had woken up from a nightmare to shaken up to say anything but too coherent to be alone when he stayed over at the Tower.

Not the hugs that happened when Tony couldn’t breathe because it was loud, and the cave, the wormhole, the shield, and his heart was beating way too fast— but then he felt warm hands grip his scarred ones and he could finally breathe. 

This was their first real hug, the one where they both realized that the world might’ve been cruel to them, but they still had each other and their own patchwork family that consisted of a veteran and War Machine, forehead of security, a kind yet sometimes angry and scary aunt, and the CEO of Stark Industries.

Tony finally realized why Peter Parker tugged at his heartstrings so much because he was _his kid._

He squeezed him tighter, a hand running through his brown curls, and placed a soft kiss on the crown of his head.

His kid, huh, he could get used to that.

**Author's Note:**

> if you're reading this, i'd to like to say thank you so much! this is my first time ever writing something (the amount of stories i could put out if i actually wrote the things i thought), and it means so much to me that you clicked on my story! so thank you so, so much.
> 
> kudos and comments are highly appreciated, and any feedback, criticism and thoughts as well.
> 
> thank you <3000


End file.
